


Almodovar Colors

by TwoForATable (AliSimAlice)



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/M, Family, Moving On, Multi, Pregnancy, Spaleb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliSimAlice/pseuds/TwoForATable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quite AU from 7x07 onwards. Soon after A.D is discovered and dealt with, Spencer Hastings comes to a life-changing realization and decides to leave Rosewood and America altogether. She accepts the fact that maybe Hanna and Caleb, the man she fell in love with, are meant to be. It kills and pains her inside but she would never come in between them. It doesn't mean though that Spencer will just stick around to see it happen. So she quietly leaves for Madrid – in the hopes that once again it'll be the place she's most happy in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

 

She sat on the edge of her bed with that little frame with the dog in her hands—once again those warm, beautiful memories of Madrid washing over her. Perhaps there was nothing more true in her life than the fateful line that said "all good things must come to an end." It seemed as though happiness for her was only always fleeting. Well, their romance had been and it killed and hurt her inside. 

It wasn't just Madrid that she thought about, it was all of the time she and Caleb had spent together in DC. The late-night phone calls, the movies they would watch together on a rare lazy day—their many outings and the small trinkets he would bring her. Origami swans, truffles along with a large coffee after a stressful day, "you are a shining star" stickers just like the ones dentists would hand out to children—the smiles, the laughs, how she wanted to touch, caress and be so much closer to him physically, that her hands would sweat and her heart would pound mercilessly in her chest. And God she had tried so damn hard to shake away her growing feelings for him. For the sake of their friendship, for the sake of Hanna, because of her fear of once again having her heart so terribly broken. And here she was and all of her fears had come to fruition. 

 

But Spencer could never say she regretted it—falling so deeply in love with Caleb Rivers and also, giving to him so much—all—of herself. She had cherished each and every look and touch and kiss. Each and every word of comfort, care and love. And their month together in Rosewood had been so wonderful... They had both made mistakes, yes, but how could she regret it? How could Spencer regret feeling once again? How could she regret this little life that grew inside of her? She didn't and really that was all that mattered. 

 

The feminist side of her wanted to just smack her, but this tiny, growing, life-altering little thing inside of her now suddenly gave her a purpose and the electrifying realization that this was where she had always meant to be—ready to close the Rosewood chapter of her life and ready to embark onto other adventures and maybe, just maybe, find that happiness again—it was too scary and too thrilling to pass up. So Spencer carefully put the frame with the painting of the little dog carefully between her clothes in the suitcase that lay on top of her bed and zipped the thing closed. With pen and paper in hand, she wrote a long letter to her mother, telling her that soon she would be one too—that she loved her and wished her all the best in Washington, that as soon as she was settled in she would call her.

 

In the dead of the night she sat inside an airplane, waiting for it to take flight. She sent a simple message to her best friends I'm taking off. Love you guys. and a little airplane emoji, before she turned her phone off and lent back in her seat, hours and hours of flight ahead of her. A new life ahead of her. Happiness was meant for her... in Madrid.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

Spencer arrived at the small pensión she was able to book through her phone, as soon as she landed in Madrid. It was a quaint, but still old little building, three story-high with chipped green paint and iron balconies beautifully decorated with swirls and mandala-like patterns. 

 

Her stomach was still acting funny and she wasn't quite sure if it was the pregnancy symptoms sooner than predicted, the after effects of a long and turbulent flight or really just her nervousness... most likely a combination of three. Seeing as her body was still adjusting to being caffeine-free, her head ached and throbbed in such a way, that on the way here from the airport, each bump and pothole the uber happened upon felt like a hammer hitting her head.

 

As she dragged her silver suitcase up the three steps, she was about to push the door open when it flew open revealing a man about her age, with a plain t-shirt and smiling eyes. Hadn't she been in so much pain and recovering from her broken heart, maybe, just maybe, Spencer would have fallen madly in love.

He spoke to her in Spanish, his timbre was deep and soft like velvet—and it took her a long few second to register his words. Only now did she fully realize what she had done, where she had adventured herself off to. Only then did the little gears in her head begin to rapidly turn and begin to analyze the possible repercussions of her impulsive decision to return to Madrid. As if guessing her confusion the young man laughed, at himself or her, Spencer wasn't sure and spoke to her in English.

 

“Are you the American lady who booked a single room with bathroom inside?” She managed a soft sí and he took her heavy suitcase from her grasp and effortlessly began to carry it inside. “Third floor, room 2. I'll take this up while you check-in with Dante, yes?” Spencer thanked him in English or Spanish, maybe even in French, she couldn't really tell in her state of mind. As the young man disappeared up the stairs her eyes met with a middle-aged man with a Real Madrid shirt behind a marble counter just left of the shabby foyer and he smiled at her warmly as he slipped the cigarette he had just rolled behind his ear and passed her a small form and pen to fill it out.

 

“Yo soy Dante...” He said, with a raspy voice so affected by the probably many years of smoking that it mostly resembled Louis Armstrong's.

 

“Como a Alighieri?” He managed a chuckled and shook his head.

 

“Spencer—strange name.” Spencer chuckled at that, she had never stopped to think much of it—sure, it wasn't exactly attractive and feminine as say, Aria, but it had always suited her fine. “What kind of name is Spencer, Yankee?”

 

“Hmm, like Diana Spencer – Princess Diana.” The man's dark eyes seem to light up at this answer. It was infallible, the doomed blonde princess would forever be in people's minds.

 

“I will call you Diana because is much nicer. You a pretty girl, need a pretty name.” Spencer didn't mind it one bit. Maybe it was a sign—a new life, a new name.

…

It was just after three when Spencer stepped out of the shower wrapped in the pensión's towel and checked on her phone, abandoned on the wooden bed side table, now fully charged. There were some news feed emails that she ignored, scrolling down her inbox to verify if there were any emails from her parents, her friends... hell, even Melissa would do. But no, there was nothing and she let out a deep sigh. 

 

She opened her suitcase and decided to kill some time before she wandered out to the street for something to eat and so managed to find a coral-colored cotton dress that would be light, comfortable and effortless to wear. She didn't even bother with a bra, just slipping on some fresh underwear and the leather hippy sandals that were so good for walking.

 

She grabbed a small purse, slipped her phone and wallet inside, locked her room door behind her and made her way down the stairs and out, waving to Dante as she passed him out. Lucky for her she didn't need to go very far to find a small traditional restaurant, a hidden gem of a place where no tourists could be seen. She sat on one of the lone bistro tables outside, under the shade of a large tree and was greeted by a waiter... with a familiar face behind fuchsia lipstick and Farrah Fawcett worthy blonde hair.

 

“Spencer Hastings?” She heard the voice say with a familiar effeminate lilt. “It's me, I used to be Martín from your anthropology class, now I am Calliope.” Spencer smiled at this. Of course she remembered Martín, perhaps the top student of her class, after Spencer herself, naturally. How good it was to bump into him like this, after so long and how good it was to see him finally morphed into what he truly was—a beautiful, glamorous, monument of a woman. Marilyn Monroe be damned.

“Martín, yes... Calliope—wow!” The blonde smiled widely with pearly white teeth almost blinding the recently arrived woman. “How long has it been, I mean, since you came out and this. It's such an awesome thing... I am mind-blown by your transformation.” Calliope batted her eyelashes, savoring the compliments and attention.

 

“Oh but I wish my wife and my parents felt the same... I thought you had gone back home to América!” Spencer nodded.

 

“I did, I just arrived back in Spain today... I honestly missed it here and you know, thought why not, I'm young—I am perfectly capable of permanently moving across the globe.”

 

“You are. Listen Spencer, you should order already because my boss is staring,” Calliope said as she eyed from the corner of her eye the form of the tall, wide figure of the restaurant owner – one of those Spanish matriarchs with a fiery temper and who you just couldn't mess around with. Calliope quickly scribbled something in her small paper pad and handed it to Spencer. “Mi numero corazón, if you ever need anything or just want to talk to a friend. I always liked you Spencer Hastings – bienvenida a Madrid.”

 

Spencer smiled and slipped the paper into her purse. She was truly happy to have ran into such a familiar face. It was good to know that she wasn't the only one who had changed the past couple of years. She would call the blonde bombshell no doubt.

 

“In that case, I'll have a glass of tinto and today's special, whatever it is.” And then she remembered, her small, delicate hand landing on her belly where not a hint of the little life growing inside of her was yet visible. Calliope who had been writing down her order, looked down and noticed the instinctive gesture instantly. With a knowing glance she seemed to cross and then write something else.

 

“Hmm, fruit juice for you, flaquita.” Spencer chuckled at this old nickname that referred to her thinness. Soon she would be huge and she was certain Calliope wouldn't dare to call her flaquita then.

…

After her meal Spencer had went on a long walk, taking in the retiro neighborhood that she loved—the people, the swift and melodious chattering in the Spanish tongue. She soaked in the day's last rays of light and took in the lovely buildings and sights around her. Despite everything, the headache that wasn't so strong but was still there and her tired bones and muscles, being back it certainly took her mind off the things and troubles she had left behind. It certainly served to ease the sensation of utter loneliness, as she walked the stone street-side paths towards the large green oasis of a park where on an evening not too different from this one, she had once again fallen in love.

 

Spencer sat on a bench, once again under a flowering tree and took a deep breath, eyes closed and taking in all of the Madrid scents and energy that she had oh-so missed and as if a tsunami suddenly washed over her fragile little illusion, the tears and sobs suddenly came and once they did only the park guards calling for closing time hours later were able to interrupt her. She walked back to the pensión and whoever watched her on her way, wondered as to why the lovely young woman carried so much sadness within her—leaving a trail of salty tears behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Kylie for your review! Please keep more of those comments coming to motivate the muse, guys!

Spencer Hastings could feel a whole lot of tension leave her body as the hot water of the _pensión's_ shower cascaded over her hair and shoulders. Five long days had passed since her arrival in Madrid, and still it was as though no one had seemed to remember or worry about her absence. She had received no sign of either her parents or friends. Perhaps it was in a way her own fault—Spencer had always been far too self-sufficient and independent, never had she been good at keeping tabs of where she was or what she was doing, especially since she left Rosewood years ago and decided to conquer the world. She missed them all hopelessly... but her pride was all too great for her to even consider giving them a call or sending a message. She was just too _fucking_ sick of worrying and caring about everyone else—too _fucking_ tired of having to always be the selfless one.

 

 

It was morning in Madrid and soon Martín, _no_ , Calliope, would be downstairs in the _pensión_ reception area waiting for her. It was good to have at least one person to count and lean on—a friendly and familiar face—even if one that had changed so drastically. But those dark blueberry eyes were still the same, full of mischief, intelligence, _joie de vivre_. Spencer couldn't express how good and grateful she felt for having ran into her old friend. And today was going to be her apartment hunting day, she had a long list and they both had legs for tirelessly walking (or at least that was what Calliope had said in the phone, in her rushed _castellano_ that Spencer sometimes still had trouble keeping up with). She would have a friend to be with her, holding her hand and urging her to keep going on—and it wasn't just the apartment searching. Spencer would be there for her as well.

 

 

She turned off the shower and managed to efficiently wrap herself around the fluffy white towel with the _pensión's_ logo embroidered on it before the cold air hit her. She sighed as she rubbed the mirror above the sink—glimpsing at her foggy reflection. She had dark circles bellow her eyes and she was sure that considerable weight had been lost. Morning sickness had finally reared it's ugly end... And the overall lack of sleep and appetite were no help either. It was as though each time Spencer tried to close her eyes, lying in bed at night, horrid and vivid images of her time at the dollhouse overcame her.

 

 

She missed the security she had discovered in those too brief months with Caleb, of waking up in the middle of the night only to find him soundly asleep and snoring beside her or sometimes, with his arm draped over her stomach, protectively. Even in DC, before finally giving in to their feelings, she knew he was only ever a phone call away. And now... and now she was completely devoid of him and it hurt so very much. It hurt because in an ideal world, they could still be together, in love, happy, delving into the unknown territory of expectancy and impending parenting together. He could stand beside her every morning in front of the mirror and measure each barely-their millimeter more of evidence that it was their baby boy or girl growing in her womb. She could be kissed and held and her skin could feel on fire again—her heart could once again be pounding in her choice due to anticipation and emotion. She longed for those moments and those fireworks between them.

 

 

As she had finally managed to slip into loose jeans that she folded the hem of, she heard the vibrating of her phone from her nightstand. She quickly buttoned herself up and slipped on a tanktop with linen shirt on top. As she opened the text message, written in Spanish she smiled bitterly. Calliope was downstairs, waiting for her already and only now did she really feel like this was it. This would be her life from now on, this nostalgia and pain and sadness were all that was destined for her. Had Aria maybe been here—she would have probably rolled her eyes at the dramatic statement and attempt to make her friend laugh. For the millionth time since she arrived, Spencer Hastings felt that pang in her heart—how she missed her friend, with the big and loving brown eyes.

 

 

…

 

 

“Spencer!” Calliope cried out with a lipsticked smile. She was dressed to the nines, of course, with a tight navy blue dress with yellow flowers that hugged her tall and tan body in all the right places. Her Farrah Fawcett hair was more subdued today, combed back, curls held by a scarf of the same fabric of her dress so stylishly that Spencer almost felt self-conscious. Lately she hadn't been giving a damn about what she wore. The sound of her name, heavily accented filled her with a warmth inside: _thpenther_. Like the whisper of a seductress, maybe Carmen, in an unwise man's ear.

 

 

Furthermore, it was good to be greeted with a kiss on each cheek and have arms wrap around her warmly and tightly. God, it felt so, so good. Spencer felt human.

 

 

“So, where do you suggest we begin?” Spencer said, recovering from the haze the bear hugs left her in.

 

 

“Forget your _list_ —I already have the _perfect_ place for you.” This had been like a punch to her methodical, by-the-books side. Forget the rules, all plans and sense of organization... improvise. She could almost imagine the little devil in the form of Mona Vanderwaal appear on one side of her shoulder with a mischievous grin and squeaky, devilish voice. The faltering of Spencer's for once excited smiled didn't go unnoticed by her Spanish friend, who took the papers from Spencer's hand, folded them and pushed them inside her decoletage. “We'll keep these here for safe keeping, but I am sure you will fall in love at first sight.”

 

 

“Mar—Calliope, I spent three entire days researching. You cannot be serious.” Calliope rolled her blueberry eyes and batted her eyelashes long and thick from mascara.

 

 

“ _Cariño_ , let's go there first if you don't like it, we still have your big list, okay?” Spencer nodded in resignation and allowed for Calliope to grab her by the arm and pull her onto the sunny streets.

 

 

“Where is it located at least?”

 

 

“Here in Retiro.” Spencer frowned. This was a rather pricey neighborhood for an unemployed soon-to-be mother with not many saved up dollars she would have to exchange into Euros. “It's an apartment that belongs to the grandaunt of my wife Soledad, _okay_ , she is retiring and moving to her old village in the south to be with her mother that refuses to die and needs to rent as soon as possible. It's an old building, as most are, not too fancy and I'll be honest, the lift is no good—but it is a lot cheaper than most apartments around and it is only two blocks from the park, _eh_? Babies _love_ parks.”

 

 

Spencer wasn't sure that after her first evening here she would still be capable of returning to Retiro Park, much less living close by. That had been where she had fallen in love with Caleb—the place of her most treasured memory of them. She didn't feel all that eager to be revisiting that every single day—if the heartbreak she felt and this baby in side of her weren't enough. Once again Calliope noticed the gears rapidly turning in Spencer Hastings' formidable head and could swear some hot machinery steam whistled out of both her ears, like in an old cartoon.

 

“ _Basta_ , Spencer! This is a good offer in one of the best neighborhoods of Madrid! _Cariño mío_ , get over this _un-smart_ man who broke your heart, you know? Get up, dust yourself off and start all over again.”

 

 

“You're one to say, Calliope—you're constantly running away from your wife!” Calliope halted in the middle of the crowded street, her eyes going wide and a deep frown marring her features.

 

 

“Maybe I am. Maybe I am running away from Soledad, maybe I am afraid to look at her and acknowledge that the thing that brought me so much happiness and fulfillment have caused her nothing but pain and anger. But I decided to change, to unleash myself from the prison I lived in. Every day is a battle, Spencer. Every day is eight types of drugs and hormones and saving money for my hair products and proper breast implants—every day is being stared and mocked at in the streets, not being able to get a job in my field, not being able to walk inside my parents' home and be welcomed with blessings and kisses. When I decided to change I knew it would not all be sunshine and roses, but I didn't stop halfway... _You_ decided to change your life by coming here, by leaving everything behind— _don't stop halfway_.”

 

 

…

 

 

Ah hour later Spencer Hastings was looking outside of the balcony in her living room—with the beautiful iron railings that she loved, with the sunshine hitting her skin and the soft cool breeze soothing the warmth. It was perfect, this was perfect. She had found her home.

 

…

 

 

Calliope leaned back onto the sixties style red Formica table with her arms crossed below her chest, a lit cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers watching as Blanca, her wife's elderly grandaunt showed Spencer each and every quirk of this old apartment that needed perhaps a new coat of paint and an elegant, decent new sofa... She took one more puff out of her cigarette, put it out on top of an abandoned, chipped plate and sighed. She thought of the angry but truthful words Spencer had blurted out earlier, about her story with Sole, how much of a prick she was. News of today and of Spencer would no doubt reach her wife, as soon as Blanca closed the apartment door behind her. Calliope feared for the hurricane to come blasting in, turning everything upside down in her fury—she feared once again looking into those cat-like green eyes—she feared being reminded of how much she loved that woman.

 

 

And then she thought of Spencer with her baggy clothes, so completely uninspired for anything. She thought about how fun she could be, how much she could laugh before, once one got inside of her thick, guarded, American shell. Calliope had always thought Spencer to be a lot more than she seemed—a woman that was highly mysterious, friendly, yes, but who seemed to have years way beyond those she physically appeared to have. Calliope was moved by this young woman, now perhaps her only and closest friend. More than that she was curious and intrigued even in an Anthropological level about the traumas and stories that her past beheld.

 

 

…

 

 

That very afternoon Spencer checked out of the pensión and carrying her single suitcase embarked in the awaiting black uber, ready to go home. It was a strange feeling, wonderfully bittersweet was quite possibly the best way to describe it. Calliope would be there, waiting for her with a boiling pot of thick stew—to put meat in her bones—and a big pink smile.

 

 

…

 

 

Across the Atlantic, Veronica Hastings arrived back home from Washington DC in the afternoon, exhausted from her new and thriving senatorial career, hoping to maybe share a glass of red or rosé with her youngest daughter as she entered the house, engulfed in darkness. She figured Spencer was out with her friends, as the barn lights were also completely off and walked inside the kitchen, switching the lights as she made a beeline for the refrigerator. It was when she turned around to place the bucket of ice cream on the island counter that she saw the white envelope with Spencer's cursive writing laying abandoned on top.

 

 

As she opened it with the help of a knife and read through it's contents, she was taken by an overwhelming sense of worry and guilt. Yes, guilt. Spencer could have used a more present mom and instead she had left—was probably now overseas for days—on a whim, heartbroken and alone. She wiped a stray tear that slid down her cheek and sighed heavily. Her poor baby girl.

 

 

…

 

As Spencer prepared to slip into bed, Calliope long gone after their dinner and at least half of said dinner having been recently flushed down the toilet, her phone buzzed from under the stiff pillow (mental note to pick new ones up at a store tomorrow).

 

_Spencer, I hope you're all right wherever you are. Keep me posted, please! Love you, Mom._

 

 

Tears filled Spencer Hastings' eyes, but tonight, knowing that her mother, so far away, cared and loved her... She was able to feel just a little bit better and safer. Tomorrow she would give her a call.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Caleb Rivers sat on the furthest and most hidden booth the grille had to offer. He was meant to meet with Hanna here, although as was per usual, she was nearly a half-hour late. As he sipped on some root beer, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the events of the past three weeks. God and eventful they were, what with Noel Khan and Jenna Marshall's imprisonments and impending trials, him searching for a new job what with Veronica Hastings' campaign over... and then there was also his and Spencer's time-off. Or maybe it was a break-up... It was all just too confusing.

 

 

Caleb hadn't felt as good as he had with Spencer in a long time. Not only had he been happy and comfortable with her, he quickly realized that she was always the highlight of his days—he looked forward to seeing, speaking and just being with her—and it wasn't a surprise at all, it had been like this since Madrid, since DC and in Rosewood it had just been _perfect_. Until Hanna's disappearance.

 

 

He still couldn't describe the feral and raw feelings Hanna's kidnapping had caused to unleash in him, as if every fiber of his being was meant to protect and bring her back. They both had a long history—woven into a rich narrative of deep love, passion, pain and growth as individuals. But Caleb didn't know when love and passion ended, giving way to something different altogether. Of course he still had feelings for Hanna—he'd be stupid and an asshole to deny it... those feelings fortunately or unfortunately would always exist. However, the feelings he came to have for Spencer those too were filled with passion and pain and love. Furthermore, he despised himself for not being able to make sense of all these mixed emotions and desires—it hurt him, yes, but it had hurt Spencer and it hurt Hanna as well. All he wished to do was run away, dig himself a hole and just bury himself in it, never to see the daylight again. It was highly and desperately unnerving.

 

 

“Caleb.” He heard her say, standing across the table from him with a look of concern written on her face. She had her phone in a hand, as always, as she hung her handbag on the back of the wooden chair she intended to sit in. “Sorry I'm late, it's just, something has come up...” Hanna sighed heavily and took her seat, both elbows perched on the table, nervously rubbing her face with her hands.

 

 

“Hey, what do you mean?” He abandoned the paper menu he had been playing with the corners of and stretch his arms in order to take hold of her small, perfectly manicured hands. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day and Caleb hated to have to see those creases of worry on her forehead or her lips settling in a permanent frown.

 

 

“I got a phone call—someone I studied with referred me to her boss who needs an assistant. It's a well paying job in Milan— _Femme_ magazine, can you believe? I had to send in my resume as soon as possible...”

 

 

“Then why do I feel like you're worried and hesitant? This is huge for you, Hanna.”

 

 

“Yes, it is huge, but so are these unresolved feelings between me and you.” She managed to say, shifting her eyes from his gaze in a mix of embarrassment and utter fear of his reaction. “Ever since we got back to Rosewood, I've been thinking about us Caleb, how we split up in the worst way possible, how yes I was wrong to throw myself so deeply into my job and not be able to live my life and be with you. You cannot begin to imagine how much a part of me regrets it every day...” She had tears filling her eyes.

 

 

“There's something I never told you...” He interrupted. She eyed him curiously for a moment.

 

 

“I think the biggest mistake was mine—to be selfish and not support you enough. I was sexist and immature and just down-right stupid. I'll admit, it was Spencer who made me come to this realization... But now I can look back and see and think more clearly,” He couldn't help but notice Hanna's slight flinch of discomfort upon hearing her friend's name. “I should have stayed by your side even if it killed me, because that's what lovers do—they make sacrifices. Yes you buried yourself impossibly in work, but I played a big part in it too. I, I—before anything, Han, I want to apologize.” As he looked up at her, his hands holding hers, he could see the tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

 

 

“It's okay, I forgive you. I mean, I already did a long time ago... but thank you, really.” She was able to mumble, the corner of her lips curving upwards ever so slightly, as she attempted to wipe the evidence of tears from her face. “Thank you Caleb—it means a lot.” She managed a dry laugh, but it wasn't of happiness, far from it. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “You know, lately I've really been thinking, about my life, my love life...” He squeezed her hand in reassurance.

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“I never got to be single long enough to know how to live with myself, how to deal with stuff. I realized that I don't know what Hanna is like outside a romantic relationship... God, I just—we broke up and less than what, two months later I met Jordan, and it was wonderful—we had so much fun and he was so sweet and took care of me and yeah, we really were happy. And then I caught myself breaking things off with him and this irrational, crazy, impulsive side of me wanted to go running towards you... It's like I'm afraid of being alone and I've grown dependent on having someone there to always lean on. I need to figure myself out—you know?”

 

 

“Don't I? Hanna, it took me over three years to be ready to enter a new relationship, I guess the opposite process as you, but don't you think for a minute that it was painless, that during those years I didn't have regrets and urges... When Spencer and I ran into each other in Madrid—I felt like I wasn't wandering around on my own anymore, I felt like I would burst in happiness because I had finally found someone to love. And God it took us _forever_ to act on our feelings. You were always on the back of our minds—because we love you, Hanna, and we never wanted to hurt you.”

 

 

“I know, but you did, and I'm not blind—I know I hurt you guys too... How messed up we are, huh, Caleb?” He chuckled and she smiled at this.

 

 

“And you and Spencer—is that over, do you no longer love her like _that_?”

 

 

“I love her, I really do—and God I miss having her around. She was the one constant in my life for three years. Before we began dating she was my best friend, and I was hers. And now—I feel sort of empty, like a huge chunk of something is missing, like I lost both my lover and my best friend just like that.” He snapped his fingers and sighed heavily. Hanna could see the sadness in his eyes as he spoke of Spencer and their time together. “I was so not prepared for it.” Hanna nodded in understanding.

 

 

“And me?” Caleb froze for a full minute, before he was able to raise his head in order to face Hanna's eyes, that were eager for an answer.

 

 

“I love you Hanna, I will always love you, but I need to figure myself out—the past can't come back, we will never be the same that we were before New York, before we really grew up.” He let out a dry laugh, “Hell, it would be wonderful if we could be, easier at the very least. Go to Milan, Hanna, by all means, don't hold yourself back because of me—I don't want to hold you back... You are so talent and have so much potential, don't screw things up because of me.”

 

 

Hanna swallowed dry. This was it.

 

 

“So you're not willing to give us another shot?” Caleb sighed heavily and let go of her hand, resting his on his lap.

 

 

“It's not that I don't want to, Hanna—I just don't feel like I'm ready. I—I need to figure out what I want, where my feelings are. I owe it to Spencer to think things over and just make up my mind. I don't want to hurt either of you any further. Please understand.” She nodded.

 

 

“You're fucked up Caleb, but I get you. Thanks for this, okay? Thank you for being honest and open with me.”

 

 

“Thanks to you too, Han.” She smiled slightly, her lips trembling just a little bit. “I love you okay?” She nodded and once again tears escaped her eyes.

 

 

“I love you too. Fingers crossed that I'll get that job in Milan—I'll keep you posted.” He nodded and smiled at her, sincerely. He wanted only the best for her, all of the best.

 

 

They both got up at the same time and he awkwardly kissed her cheek when they quickly hugged. Was she really the one he was meant to live the rest of his life with? Only time would tell.

 

…

 

 

_**One Month Later** _

 

 

He purposely walked past her apartment building that day as he did a couple of times a week in different times—he wondered if she was still there, living on the third floor of a small apartment building, allowing for her little plants outside the windows to dry out and die. There had been no sign whatsoever of Spencer Hastings and it was beginning to really worry him. Every single time he had attempted to call or send a message, he wasn't able to—her phone line no longer existed, as the operator would always remind him. He had thought of contacting the Hastings', ask them for her new number, but another side of him would convince him that she wanted nothing to do with him, that she had disappeared off the face of the earth because it had been her choice and desire to do so.

 

 

So it really was with great, big surprise that at 4pm as he slowly walked by, that he saw cardboard boxes being loaded inside a U-haul moving truck, and before he could ask himself whether those really contained Spencer Hastings' belongings, he saw them carry and carefully load inside her light blue suede sofa, the one with a bear-head shaped coffee stain on the edge (he had been there when said stain was created)... And then he saw her mother, Veronica Hastings in casual khaki pants and a dark blue blouse, carrying a box herself inside the truck. As she turned around towards where he had been standing by the corner her brown eyes went wide and her face had lit up. Against all odds, Veronica Hastings had really grown to like and admire her daughter's ex-boyfriend and friend.

 

 

“Caleb!” She cried with a smile, motioning for the group of four men to keep up with the loading and walked towards him.

 

 

“Hey Veronica,” He said sheepishly, a ghost of a small creeping over his features. “How have you been, what's it like being a state senator?” She smiled brightly.

 

 

“I'm doing great and although it's really stressful and a lot of work, I'm really enjoying it. It's a dream of mine that came true, Caleb.” She eyed the building behind her and then eyed him and grinned wistfully. “I'm afraid Spencer no longer lives here, she begged me to take care of her things, to ship them away to where she's living now.” Veronica didn't want to give much away as she wasn't sure how much Caleb knew and on what foot he and Spencer had ended their relationship on. “It's funny, isn't it, how nearly two months have passed and it feels like so much more than that.” He nodded.

 

 

“I'm still living here in DC, found a job at this big law firm specialized in art, forgery and robberies... It's pretty good.”

 

 

“I'm happy for you, Caleb and am glad that everything's doing fine on your end.” She fumbled with a loose string at the end of her sleeve for a moment and then asked, “how is Hanna, is she living here with you?”

 

 

“Oh, not at all. Hanna and I we decided not to get back together—she's been living and working in Milan as of two weeks. And it's really the last that I've heard of her.”

 

 

“She did always want to pursue a career in the fashion industry... Listen, Caleb, if you ever need anything, please, please feel free to give me a call or email me. Seriously—not just work wise, but for anything. I would hate it for us to fall out of touch—you're a wonderful guy and I will forever be thankful for the excellent work during my campaign, how supportive you were of me and my daughter.”

 

 

“Same number, senator?” She nodded with a smile.

 

 

“And don't you be a stranger!” Caleb shook his head. He wouldn't for the life of him.

 

 

…

 

 

Spencer was busy sending in her resume to a number of organizations in Madrid on her computer when she received the impromptu phone call from her mother. They had just spoken last night, she wondered what it could be about.

 

 

“Hey, mom—what's up?” She asked, shutting the lid of her laptop and getting up to pace the hall of the apartment as she always did during a call. She just couldn't stay put.

 

 

“Sweetie, how's your morning sickness going along, you feeling better?”

 

 

“Yes, a lot better. My landlord, Blanca made me this special herbal tea which is all the rave—mom, it works wonders, you would never believe!”

 

 

“I bet it tastes wonders as well!” Spencer chuckled at this, it truly tasted and looked horrible, but as long as it worked and helped her keep her food down... “Listen, honey—you will never guess who I ran into last evening in front of your old apartment.”

 

 

“Caleb.”

 

 

“Well yeah, good guess. Spencer, I have a feeling it wasn't the first time he was wandering over there, I think he's been looking for you.”

 

 

“God mom, can't he make up his mind?!” Spencer fought the urge to blurt out some bad, offensive words. She blamed it on the pregnancy hormones.

 

 

“Spencer, you have got it all wrong—Caleb and Hanna are not together, in fact, they never got back together in the first place and to top it all off, she's just moved to Italy for a new job.” That moment if it hadn't been Calliope casually walking inside Spencer's apartment full of super market bags in her hands to distract her, Spencer Hastings could as pretty well have fallen hard on the ground. “Spencer, don't you get it—you don't have anymore excuses to hide behind, you need to tell Caleb that he's going to be a father.”

 

 

Spencer lowered the phone from her ear and zoned out for a full minute. Calliope watched her in worry as she carefully set the groceries and bags on top of the red Formica table of Spencer's kitchen. She couldn't help but wonder why the sudden shock on her friend's part.

 

 

Calliope took the phone from her hand and turned it off, taking her friend gently by the hand and sitting her on one of the chairs.

 

 

“ _Flaquita, que te pasa?”_

 

 

As Spencer recovered from her utter state of shock, she stared at the make-up filled face of her transsexual friend with tears threatening to escape her brown eyes.

 

 

“ _Calliope_ —I need you to find someone for me. I need you to find my friend Hanna in Italy.” She got up in a start and frantically opened each and every drawer of the house, her eyes going through each surface, looking for a paper and a pen. “I need you to help me find her.”

 


End file.
